


Kisses

by Angel_Is_Alive



Category: X-Men: Apocalypse
Genre: Heartbreaker, LMAO, M/M, come prepared with heart duct tape, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 18:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7982446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Is_Alive/pseuds/Angel_Is_Alive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warren had no idea that kisses could hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kisses

Kurt's kisses were soft, fleeting caresses over Warren's mouth and cheeks and neck and fingers. They were like lightning; they sent shivers up and down his spine, leaving hot marks where they’d brushed him. Puffs of hot air stung his skin from quick pants. 

Groans and whimpers trickled past Warren’s teeth as his freezing body grew warm in some places but stayed cold in others. His lips, when not occupied or pushing hot air out, sometimes formed words: Kurt, baby blue, oh my god, please…

The lights were dimmed, but Warren’s world was bright with the view of half-lidded rubies against sapphire velvet, topped with ink-like black strands of the softest fibers he’d ever felt. He reached up to caress the incredible array of colors as the rubies were suddenly hidden. Rows of sharp pearls revealed themselves between slightly swollen lips.

_Colors hurt._

Purple and scarlet joined once more in a heated battle for dominance. Lips traveled down Warren’s neck and kissed his collarbone. Bliss, euphoria, there would never be enough adjectives in the world to describe that feeling when Kurt’s lips joined with his.

Warren rubbed that spot lightly now; there was a small bruise left there from his and Kurt’s night together. He inhaled through his nose. If only memories could bring back the warmth from that night.

His fingers were cold from the glass bottle in his hand. Willing himself to stand, he walked from his run-down table in the corner up to the bar. Words formed themselves and spilled clumsily from his mouth. Another beer bottle was in his hand.

_Alcohol hurt._

No, Warren scolded himself, alcohol healed, it numbed the pain. It drowned out all the sounds of drunken laughter and shouting and blaring of some football game on the television above his head.

Alcohol never left him. Alcohol was always there to soothe his troubles, his best friend throughout the years. But then again, Warren never had many friends.

_Hangovers hurt._

His best friend had stabbed him in the back like it always did. Joints snapped and cracked as Warren lifted his head from the hardwood floor. He’d made it back to his room somehow, this time.

Sunlight peeked out from behind his curtains. It was dull, just like it had been for the past few days - a week? Two weeks? Warren had stopped keeping track.

_Tears hurt._

Salty waterfalls stinging his eyes and crashing down his cheeks, soaking his pillows and shirts and mattress as he sobbed freely into them. Hell, they almost flushed out Kurt’s smell from the stupid red jacket he always wore. At the thought of that happening, Warren swiftly wiped his face and clutched it to his chest. 

Kurt may be gone, but Warren hoped - foolishly, he knew - that his scent never would follow.

_Love hurt._

It was the sorrowful glances from his friends as he walked down the isle, carrying Kurt’s coffin. Warren would’ve growled if he’d had the energy or care to do so. Deep down, he knew they cared for him. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t.

Hands on his shoulders and back led him away from the coffin for the proper funeral. He didn’t resist. He couldn’t.

Ororo massaged his wings right below the claw, where she knew it felt nice. It was odd, Warren thought, because he didn’t feel anything at all.

Didn’t feel the consoling peck on his cheek as he was called up to the podium.

Didn’t feel the tears rolling down his cheeks until they blurred the ink on his speech cards. 

Didn’t feel the shaking sobs as they wracked his body.

Damn him, he promised himself he wouldn’t cry. But Warren knew he was a fool, even to himself.

Warren approached Kurt’s open coffin. He lay silent, beautiful as always. He stroked the self-made marks on Kurt’s cheeks and neck. He’d seen the one made to resemble wings. He loved it and hated it, feeling responsible for the imperfection.

He told Kurt’s lifeless body these things as his fingers brushed over his features. He murmured “I love you’s” and “I miss you’s” as he caressed Kurt’s lips with his own for the last time.

_Kisses hurt._

Warren understood this as every mark on his body left by his lover came alive in a single roaring sweep of agony.

_Kisses killed._

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
